


To 'Nam and Back

by MogiPrince



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 60s AU, Hiatus, Journalist!eren, M/M, OlderNanny!Mikasa, President JFK's death, Soldier!Levi, lots of death, lots of relationships, takes place during Vietnam war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2217666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MogiPrince/pseuds/MogiPrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger's life as a journalist during the Vietnam war</p>
            </blockquote>





	To 'Nam and Back

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so
> 
> This fanfiction is based off of one of my favourite books, Danielle Steel's Message from Nam
> 
> There is going to be A LOT of death btw but also falling in love at probably the worst possible time
> 
> This fanfiction will start off with Armin and Eren but that will change and a lot of relationships will be explored.
> 
> I'm posting the prologue right now but this story is on HIATUS for now because I'm working on other (happier) fanfics

_**November 1963- June 1968** _

_**Prologue** _

It was a chill gray day in Savannah, a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean. There were leaves scattered upon the ground and a few couples were wandering around, some women were chatting and taking a smoke break before they would have to head back in to work. And in Savannah High School, the hallways were deserted. The bell had rung and most of the students were in their classrooms, with the few odd ones attempting to leave. Some of the classrooms were full of laughter while others sounded like they were devoid of life. The squeak of chalk, the looks of despair on the faces of sophomores ill prepared for a surprise quiz in history. The senior classes were being talked to about College Boards they were going to take the following week, just before Thanksgiving. And as they listened, far away, in Dallas, gunfire erupted. A man in sitting in the backseat of a car catapulted into his wife's arms, people scrambling for safety from the hidden gunner. No one understood what had happened yet, and as the voice of Savannah droned on about the College Boards, Eren Jeager tried to fight the sleepy waves of warm boredom, though he mostly failed.

  
Thankfully, at one-fifty the bell rang, all doors opened and the waves of high school students poured into the halls, freed from quizzes, lectures, French literature, and pharaohs of Egypt. Everyone moved on to their next rooms, with an occasional stop at a locker for a change of books, a quick joke, a burst of laughter. And then suddenly a scream. Loud anguished wail, a sound that pierced the air like a bullet in the distance. A thundering of footsteps, a rush toward a corner room normally used by staff, the television flickered on, a bunch of young faces pressing through the doorway, people gasping, and no one could hear what was being said, as too many people were still talking.

  
"Shut up, you guys! We can't hear the what they're saying!"

  
"Is he hurt? ... Is he..." No one dared to say the words, and in the crowd a repetitive questioning of "What's happening?... President Kennedy?... Was he shot?..." began to arise. No one quite believing it at first. Everyone wanting to believe it was horrible joke. "Did you hear President Kennedy's been shot?" "Yeah... Then what? What's the rest of the joke, man?" There was no rest of the joke. There was only jumbled talking, endless questions, and no answers.

  
There were confused images on the screen with replays of the vehicle speeding away and afterwards the crowd scrambling. An older man on the screen, looking ashen. "The present has been seriously wounded." A murmur went through the crowd, and it seemed that every student and staff member in the building were pressed into that tiny cube of a room.

  
"What'd he say?... What did he say?" a voice from the distance asked.

  
"He said the President is seriously wounded," a voice from the front said, their voice carrying from the front of the crowd to the back. A few of the younger students started to cry, as Eren stood somberly crushed in the mass of bodies around him, watching them. There was suddenly an eerie stillness in the room as no one wanted to move, as if even the thought of moving tipped the balance and would somehow cause his life to end. Eren found himself thinking of another day, six years before, when he was only eleven. _"Your mother has been hurt..."_ His Father had told him the news.

  
 _"... Will she be okay?"_

  
_"I..."_ There had been a strange catch in His Father's voice, a truth in his eyes that made Eren want to run and hide from. He was eleven at the time, an only kid of a much older couple. Eren had been an "accident", his mother would whisper to her friends, an accident Grisha Jeager has never seemed to be grateful for, which upsets her even then. Carla Jeager had been forty years old when she first gave birth to Eren, and in her words it had been the worst 9 months of her life that brought her the best eleven years of her parenthood. Grisha, despite loving Carla, was impatient with her inability (though she would always say she had him in control she just chose to let him have his way) to control the young boy. Eren was the kind of boy any mother would have loved. He was a happy, energetic, headstrong (although maybe too headstrong) boy, with a serious penchant for learning which also pleased Grisha. When Carla died, Grisha had begun to ignore his son in favour of pretending he never had a family and the, at least what he thought, embarrassing idea of being a single father at the age of fifty. He chose to hire a young nanny with straight black hair. Mikasa Ackerman was her name, but Eren called her Mika. She was only twenty-one, ten years older then Eren, but she had a lot of experience. She grew up in orphanage called The Rosary and Mary and once she was old enough she began to work for the orphanage as a babysitter. Mikasa treated Eren like he was her own brother, maybe even as close as a son. She kept Eren in line when he got he grabby hands on things or when he had homework to finish. It was Mikasa who comforted him when he cried, whose arms he ran to when he was hurt or afraid, Mikasa never left him, even for a moment. Mikasa took over Grisha's role of Eren's only parent and consoled Eren telling him great stories of the things he could achieve whilst his father believed that the small child, with grabby hands and a brain that desired more than he should want, was certainly not destined for greatness.

  
The man on the screen's voice droned on, as Eren and the others stared silently at the television. The occasional whisper heard among the crowd.

  
"We don't have any real answers for you yet," the face on the screen said, "All we know is that the President's condition is critical..." With that, a teacher's hand reached out and switched the dial, just in time to hear another reporter say almost exactly the same thing on another network. The students stared at each other with terror clearly etched on their faces.

  
It was two o'clock, and Eren stood breathlessly in the corner of the room trying to believe that he would be alright, fighting back tears, and not sure if he was crying for their President or his mother. It was only two o'clock, half an hour after the president had been shot, ten minutes since they had been watching the television for news of him, as the entire nation prayed, and his family knew what Eren had learned six years before when his Mother died... That it was over.  
At 2:01, The reporter on the screen looked into the camera with a defeated look and told the American people that their president was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to have at least two more (longer) chapters by october 1st.
> 
> see ya


End file.
